


Gray hair

by DrimmsyDra



Category: The A-Team (TV)
Genre: Cooking, Food, M/M, gray hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 21:29:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18432470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrimmsyDra/pseuds/DrimmsyDra
Summary: It could have been an ordinary morning. But it wasn't.





	Gray hair

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short funny story. And yes, it's a slash. Though very mild one, there is nothing sexual, no intimate activities. It might be taken as a very close friendship too.  
> It's after the show era. The A-Team probably got their pardons and Murdock and Face live together.  
> Because English isn't my first language, please, tell me if you find something wrong there. You can help me improve my skills.

I was woken up by a weird smell. What was it? It stank as boiled two weeks worn socks. It was attacking my defenceless nostrils and I was glad I don't have hyperosmia like Faceman does. Well, I don't think he really has it, he's just a very sensitive to smells but he keeps saying he has hyperosmia. I don't argue with him. Even with my whole imagination and vocabulary I can't win. I crinkled my nose thinking he must be mad right now if he smells it.

I scrubbed a hand over my eyes and checked his side of our bed. A surprisingly empty space made me rub the eyes once more. Face barely wakes up so early, let alone get up before I do. It must be that smell. That surely pulled him out of bed. Oh Lord, I don't want to see how pissed off he has to be.

I got out of bed and paying no attention to the possible danger of angry Face I sneaked down the stairs to the kitchen. Okay. If I was surprised I didn't find him in bed, now I was in shock. He was cooking!

Faceman rarely cooks. And he never cooks in the morning. It's well known that Templeton Peck is not willing to get out of bed until someone brings him a cup of coffee.

I started to worry. Was this really my Face?

"Faceman?" I asked with a suspicious voice.

"Oh, good morning." He answered without looking at me, his nose buried in a book.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"I'm cooking."

"Well, yeah. I can see that." I wrinkled my nose again. "But what're ya cookin'?"

"Kombu, wakame and arame."

"What?"

"Sea vegetables."

"Oh…?"

He finally turned to me. There was a funny contrast between his serious expression and my pink-white 'kiss the cook' apron he borrowed without asking. "Sea vegetables contain high levels of iodine. And iodine is very essential to stop graying of the hair, you know?"

"Uh-huh." I stepped to him peering into the pot. It was full of some green-brown rags and short black laces. The weird smell was spreading out right of this pot. "And you're gonna put that on your head? Like liquidize it and make your own shampoo?" This image made me sick.

"No!" He looked offended. I stepped back. Only one little step, just in case. "It's supposed to be soup," he said resolutely.

"Soup?" I couldn't believe my ears. "You cookin' soup from old military socks and shoelaces?"

"Murdock!" Now, he was really upset. "Sea vegetables are chock-full of vitamins and minerals. Including magnesium, iron, potassium and calcium. It's good for your health. This is going to be our breakfast."

"Only this?" I pointed to the pot with boiling socks and sent a silent prayer for a plate of pancakes with chocolate syrup.

"Of course not. We'll also have chickpeas with mix of onion, carrot, daikon and leek."

"Uhm… and this is all just because of your first gray hair?"

"No, it's not just because of it, Murdock. We both need to eat healthier. Look at you, your skin is so pale. You don't look much healthy."

"Thanks," I pulled a face at him. "But my skin has always been pale like this. It's just my color. And you know I don't like sunbathing, it's boring."

"Still, you can use more healthy food."

"Okay, whatever ya say," I mumbled and added louder, "Now, if you don't mind, I'll take a shower. Cuz cleanliness is next to godliness, right? My grandma used to say."

"Smart lady." I heard him remark before I left the kitchen.

The first thing I did in the bathroom was to open the window and take a deep breath. The morning breeze was so great, smelling so nice. It usually makes me hungry. Fresh morning air means waffles, pancakes, scrambled eggs or omelets, or at least chocolate cereals.

But I was sure I would be starving all day. Maybe longer, depending on how long this strange kind of healthy Jazz would occupy Face's mind.

And all because of the first gray hair Face had found on his head two days ago. He had spent all morning in the bathroom staring into the mirror, looking for more gray hair and nearly got hysterical as he had found another one.

"Look at it, it's not even gray, it's white!" He had shouted out in horror.

It would had been pointless to tell him that the hair wasn't white, it was just pure blond bleached by the summer sun. He had kept saying that with white hair his productive life was over.

I was so glad Hannibal didn't live with us and couldn't hear it. He wouldn't be happy about this statement.

Face had eventually left the bathroom, but just to spend an hour and a half on the phone with his hairdresser. Don't ask me what they were talking about because I don't know. I haven't talked to any hairdresser on the phone. Never.

And for the rest of the day, he had paced back and forth in the house cursing and complaining and thinking aloud. I had tried to calm him down and reassured him that I didn't care what his hair color was. But he had looked directly at me, his dark blue eyes like two loaded guns so I preventively withdrew letting him complain.

It's always safer to keep my mouth shut when he's in this mood. I've learned long ago that ain't a good idea to oppose him. He's normally a calm person. On the surface, of course. I'm not talking about what's going on inside him, it's a different story. But he tries to keep his mask in any case, not to show any emotions. Or most of them, at least. But when something throws him off, even a perfect con man like him can't hold his poker face any longer and he becomes furious. And it's better not to cross his path.

So yes, I'll eat his sock broth willingly. Or unseen, I'll pour it out down the sink pretending I'm a satisfied filled happy partner. Even if I starve. And I'll wait for this storm to pass. Because whether he wants it or not, his hair's going to turn gray. And I have to admit that I like this vision. I don't think he would lose his perfect look with growing age. On the contrary. Gray hair's going to give him seriousness. The look of wisdom. And with or without gray hair, I'll love him. Forever.

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. And now, do you want to know something funny? I got this idea thanks to Dirk Benedict. After reading one of his books, I became interested in macrobiotic diet and when I was searching more informations, I found a note about sea vegetables and their great effects on hair. At that moment, I had a clear vision of hysterical Face franticly cooking seaweeds.  
> I also put some of my feelings into Murdock because when I cooked sea vegetables for the first time, I was slightly surprised by the weird smell. Or not exactly surprised, I just had to get used to it. But of course, it's exaggerated in the story. ;)


End file.
